


you can be king

by Rethira



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Well? What are you waiting for?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can be king

**Author's Note:**

> for [areyougame](http://areyougame.dreamwidth.org/) on dw

At first, it’s just another part of his job.

To quote President Shinra, they don’t need any _more_ bastard children running around. The closest to an acknowledgement Lazard Deusericus will ever get; Tseng takes care not to let it get back to him, despite the active rumour mill and the President’s loud voice.

But to wit; it’s just another part of his job. At first, it’s simply running interference. He makes sure that Rufus is never given time alone with a woman, no matter how he begs, pleads or makes subtle irritated gestures to the point. There can be no accidents if Rufus is never given the _chance_ for accidents. And perhaps it would have stayed that way, but Tseng is not on duty all the time and Rufus is capable in and of himself.

And so, on one of Tseng’s rare days off, Rufus engineers a daring escape and disappears down into the slums.

When Tseng finds him, he’s purchasing the services of a desperate young woman, who looks incredibly thankful when Tseng tells her to leave _with_ the money. Rufus just looks irritated.

He stays that way for about six and a half seconds, which is the amount of time it takes for Tseng to kneel in front of him and begin to undo his slacks.

Rufus yelps and bats Tseng’s hands away, hissing, “ _What_ are you _doing_?”

Tseng stares up at him, expression carefully neutral. “I am to see to _all_ your needs, Rufus,” he says.

To his credit, Rufus looks somewhat appalled. “I’d _never-_ ” He chokes back the words. _You’re like my_ father _,_ he doesn’t say. “Just take me back.”

Tseng rises, brushes the dirt from his knees, and takes Rufus home.

They don’t speak of it. But that means hardly a thing – Rufus thinks of it, that much is evident. He watches Tseng, and sometimes his face turns bright red and he stammers until he can run to his room.

He wants.

His next runaway is staged, and so obviously that it almost makes Tseng disappointed. The Turks assigned to guard Rufus shrug – it’s Tseng’s problem now. As if their losing the President’s heir is something to be unconcerned about.

Tseng finds Rufus in much the same place as before, although this time he’s alone. He looks up when Tseng approaches, and licks his lips nervously.

“Well?” he asks.

Tseng kneels to a sharp intake of breath, and undoes Rufus’ slacks to a groan. His fingers slide across Rufus’ warm skin, carefully pushing aside all the layers of clothes until he can finally set eyes on Rufus’ cock. Half-hard already, and Tseng’s barely done a thing.

“Are you sure, Rufus?” Tseng asks, meeting Rufus’ eyes. They’re blown wide, and Rufus is already biting his lips red. He doesn’t speak, simply nods convulsively. Tseng lowers his gaze and leans forward, first licking a stripe along Rufus’ cock and then sucking the head into his mouth.

Above him, Rufus shudders and bites back moans. His hips jerk, roughly forcing more of his dick into Tseng’s mouth. Tseng pulls back disapprovingly. “Please hold still,” he says, and pretends not to hear Rufus’ moan. He holds Rufus still, takes him deeper into his mouth and applies gentle suction.

It doesn’t take long.

Rufus stares, wide eyed, when Tseng swallows and wipes his mouth. He blushes bright red when Tseng tells him, softly, to fix his clothes. His fingers fumble at the fastenings, and even when he’s done, he looks nothing so much as if he’s just received an impromptu fellating.

The people in the slums don’t stare, but that is probably more to do Tseng’s attire than anything else. They’ve learnt to fear the Turks.

Rufus doesn’t attempt a similar stunt again. He makes his desires clear in other ways; it becomes common place for Tseng to end his shift on his knees, servicing Rufus with lips and tongue. The other Turks keep their opinions wisely to themselves. Even Veld, although his expression tends towards the somewhat perturbed.

Rufus doesn’t seem to see anything wrong at all.

It seems set to continue that way, except that boredom sets in around Rufus’ birthday and he demands _more_.

Tseng’s hands, first; he cradles Rufus in his arms, chest against Rufus’ back, and moves his hands firm and sure over Rufus’ cock. Rufus asks for his voice as well, so Tseng murmurs filth in his ears, and the words come so _easily_. Rufus shudders and shakes, and he moans, “ _Tseng_ ,” with such fervour that for a moment, Tseng finds himself short of breath.

That too keeps Rufus satisfied – he cycles through hands and mouth for a time and then he says, “Touch me _more_ ,” and Tseng finds himself leaning, still fully clothed, over his mostly naked charge, teeth worrying Rufus’ nipples while his hand drives Rufus to completion.

It’s not the route he would have chosen for his profession, and one he would abandon without thought, if not for the meetings Veld sends him to with thinly veiled distaste. President Shinra might not be privy to the finer details of Tseng’s relationship with his son, but it’s doubtful that he’d care even if he did. Sometimes, he congratulates Tseng on a job well done.

Tseng would prefer blood on his hands, if he were honest.

It’s just another job, he tells himself.

He sucks Rufus off and watches his face when he comes and thinks, no, it really isn’t.

There’s a change, a shift. Rufus settles, and begins to focus more on the company. He begins to oppose his father’s views, though he’s careful to keep quiet about the fact. Tseng knows, but then, Tseng knows everything there is to know about Rufus.

Nevertheless, it comes as some surprise one evening, when instead of doing anything objectionable, all Rufus wants to do is watch a movie. He makes Tseng sit beside him, and slowly stretches out, until his head is pillowed in Tseng’s lap.

Those nights begin to happen more often. Tseng leaves them out of sorts and irritated; Reno takes delight in needling him, but then he’d hardly be Reno otherwise.

It’s been near two years since this began.

One day, Rufus says, unusually quietly, “You’ve never kissed me.”

“No,” Tseng agrees.

“Why?” Rufus asks.

Tseng finds he doesn’t have an answer; Rufus kisses him, soft and sweet.

“I know,” he says, “I know my father sent you. It took me a while, but I know now.”

Something like dread settles in Tseng’s stomach. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rufus says, simply.

At first, it was just another part of the job.

But not anymore.

Rufus is made Vice President.

In the slums, the flower girl falls in love with a SOLDIER.

Rufus returns and he is cordial and cold and carries a shotgun with purpose and intent. A hound, one of Hojo’s creatures, trails loyally behind him, as good a deterrent as any Turk.

They do not speak.

And then Rufus slips his guards. Even his hound is left behind. And Veld says, in a voice that brooks no argument, “Find him.”

It’s pathetically easy. The alley might even be the same one, although in even greater a state of disrepair. Rufus is smoking this time; he stubs it out as Tseng approaches, and a smirk plays on his lips.

“Will you kneel for me again?” he asks.

Tseng’s kneeling before Rufus even finishes. “Of course,” he murmurs.

For a moment, there is silence. And then Rufus gestures to himself as if to say _well? What are you waiting for?_

Tseng undoes Rufus’ slacks with his teeth. This time, there’s no forced calm, no clinical observations. Tseng closes his eyes and takes Rufus’ cock, holds his hips but doesn’t force stillness. Rufus’ hands clutch at Tseng’s hair and he fucks Tseng’s mouth like Tseng never let him before.

He kisses Tseng after, chases after the taste of himself on Tseng’s lips, and says, “Take me back.”


End file.
